


Cracked Mirrors

by seagullandcroissant



Category: Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: Angst, Gen, Multi, Other, Transformation, oh no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 15:18:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19087687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seagullandcroissant/pseuds/seagullandcroissant
Summary: The Darklands have never felt so Dark -- and Jim doesn't remember feeling so coldIn fact, he doesn't remember anything at all.-- A Mirrored AU Snippit





	Cracked Mirrors

The world began upon on a cold, stone slate.

The being felt it beneath him, pressing against his back, his body, as if drawing him up from some Hellish deep as he began to come to, only to be no closer to the sun than he was before.

"He's alive." Someone spoke, near, a raspy voice and a rattling walking stick of bones as he stepped away from where he pressed a hand on the being’s chest, a much larger form coming closer, hovering, nostrils misting over the rigid body, eyes searching.

"Are you sure? He is not moving."

"He is just waking up -- it is a new world for him, after all."

There was a bout of silence, a huff of air, scoffing.

The being felt pressure against his side, something solid, a foot, before he was sent crashing to the floor with an almighty push, rolling down the first, the second, then the third step from the top of the podium, landing face down across all three.

"Sir!"

"He has many harsh lessons to learn -- let his recovery in his pain be his first."

The man who had spoken to the brute came rushing, the being breathing harshly against the stone, drool dripping from his mouth, pooling as he was being dragged upright, being forced to get up by a tug on his arm. 

The rumbling footsteps of the brute approached, the man who’d helped him sit up backed away, reducing the being to being propped by a lone elbow, head spinning.

There was a shallow breathing, dust in the air, electricity in his blood.   
  
”Get up.” A thunderous growl spoke, and the being did as he was told, legs shaking, elbows and knees knocking as he swayed on his feet, nearly fell back, but recovered. 

“Look at me.” The brute commanded again, and the being opened his eyes in a wide stare, the world suddenly there, aware, and bright.   
  
The brute’s head tilted a bit in a muted surprise, before the smell of rotting flesh and teeth crept closer, till the being nose burned of it. He didn’t flinch or turn away, only stared blankly a space a bit above the brute’s head.   
  
“Listen to me, boy.” The brute spoke, voice almost in a purr, “May you come into this world and know one thing -- and remember this: James Lake Jr. is dead.”   
  
A heavy object was pressed into a hand plucked by the brute, and the being’s mirror eyes stared back at it as it glowed a humming, gentle blue, pulsating with his heartbeat, a bird darting against the cage of his ribs.   
  
He squeezed the blue object with everything he possessed, a smile creeping across his face as he felt the metal begin to give away, dented, damaged, before tossing it aside as the runes of Gum-Gum magic glowed from underneath his skin, a dangerous pale light -- lightning trapped in a bottle.

And, throwing back his head, clenching his clawed fists, all Jim could do was laugh.  
  



End file.
